


The rarity of a moment

by junelouise



Category: The Crown (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junelouise/pseuds/junelouise
Summary: Set sometime after 1x06. Elizabeth is reminded of how she feels about Philip.
Kudos: 27





	The rarity of a moment

Elizabeth gave a small sigh as she picked up the speech she was supposed to give in a few hours. She hoped the changes she instructed had been added to the notes and as she read through the appropriate and well induced sentences about the opening of the children’s centre in Nottingham, she smiled to herself as she discovered that this time the speech actually felt quite good. Perhaps it had something to do with the passionate and driven men and women who has initiated this important installation, she pondered as her eyes flickered through the speech. Her fingers played with the pearls around her neck as she memorised the words best she could even though her eyes were quite tired after hours of paperwork already. The last couple of months had been a whirlwind of work and there had been little time to reflect on the life-changing turn her whole life had taken when becoming the Queen of England. One day at a time, tackling one task at a time had been made her epigraph.

A knock on the wooden door disturbed her focus and Michael apologetically joined her temporary office. “Sorry to disturb, your Majesty.”

Elizabeth briefly looked up. “What is it, Michael?” 

Her private secretary uncomfortably cleared his throat. “It’s the Duke, ma’am.” His words made Elizabeth abandon the speech and lift her gaze to the man approaching her desk. “Apparently his Royal Highness and Mr Avison Parker has been in a small car accident. No major injuries reportedly, but-” he paused and nervously studied her reaction. Elizabeth lifted her eyebrow, her lips tight as she gave him her full concentration, the icy blue in her eyes giving way to no emotion. She had become some expert of concealing her true feelings. Michael continued, “caution has been made and they are both with the doctor. It seems as if Mr Avison Parker has injured his arm and ribcage, while His Royal Highness luckily escaped any injuries. Unfortunately, the press has taken notice, but we are working on it, ma’am, so it will hopefully not make it into tomorrow’s papers.” 

Elizabeth tightened her jaw. “I see,” she began and stood from the chair by the desk, straightening her skirt before walking toward the window. Rain smattered against the glass, the wind strong outside. 

“We have arranged for a phone call, ma’am.” Michael gestured to the phone placed next to the abandoned notes on the desk. 

Elizabeth felt her arms tighten, taking a deep breath as she contained her emotions. “Yes, of course.” She walked up to the desk yet again and paused when reaching for the phone. “Thank you, Michael.” The man gave a nod before leaving the room, carefully closing the doors behind him, off to make sure the issue was being handled properly. 

She took a deep breath before lifting the phone to her ear. “Yes,” she said with the voice of a true aristocrat. 

“Elizabeth,” her husband carefully started on the other end of the phone, his voice sounding quite small. “I am sorry. I am fine.”

“So I hear.” 

“We were just driving, and some idiot had placed a bicycle in the middle of the road. Mike made sure I was protected and pretty much took the whole hit himself, poor boy.” 

She let him talk for a few more moments, his excuses not moving her in the slightest. “Elizabeth?” Philip tried after a while when noticing that she had yet to say another word. “You still there?” 

“Had you been drinking,” she suddenly blurted out, voice annoyed and accusing. When there was no immediate respond, she continued. “Of course you had. What were you thinking? Have you any idea to what extent this could cause a scandal,” she spat, her voice harsh and menacing. “They already hate us and are just waiting for us to make a mistake. We cannot afford to make mistakes, Philip.” 

“I know,” he got out before she continued, interrupting his apologies, once again letting him know that she was Queen and he was not. 

“You really should know better. Do you even think about your children and what your reckless behaviour could lead to, them not growing up with a father.” She knew she was crossing a line and was acting quite mean, but she could not stop herself, the anger consuming her entire being. Did he not understand what pressure she already was under, what scrutiny their lives were doomed to hold? She refused to let him or anyone else, let alone Mike, jeopardize the monarchy or their family like this. 

Philip took his opportunity to interrupt when she paused to breathe, letting her know his hurt feelings. “I told you I was sorry. And quite frankly, I was hoping you at least be happy I was not hurt. But guess I was hoping for too much from my wife.” He spoke the last word with an irritated and hurt spat and continued. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall speak to the doctor. See you when you get home.” 

Before she could reply he had ended their call and Elizabeth was left standing with the silent phone held to her ear. She felt a sting of hurt but quickly brushed it off, composing herself and putting the phone down while returning to her seat by the desk and the speech. She was queen after all, and composure was her expertise. 

….

While the rain smattered onto the umbrella being held over her head, Elizabeth curled her lips into a content smile as she welcomed the applause from the crowd in front of her. As true Englishmen, no one seemed too bothered by the weather as they clapped while the rainfall caused their coats and hats to turn into a darker shade of grey and black. It was in these moments she felt proud of her country and seeing all these people gathered, not only to meet and listen to her, but to celebrate the hard work of this fine children’s centre the whole community had helped create in a common belief and hope of the future. 

Making her way down the stage, ushered through the crowd stopping every once in a while to shake hands and be introduced to left and right, thanked and cheered she kept her head high and her smile as bright as she could. These people deserved it, they deserved to be seen by their sovereign. 

“Thank you for coming, your Majesty,” they said with a bow or a curtsey. 

As she made her way closer to the awaiting car, Elizabeth’s eyes caught onto a blonde woman who seemed to be her own age. She approached the woman who gave her a kind smile. 

“Hello,” Elizabeth said in her most charming voice.

The blonde woman made curtsey respectfully before speaking, her voice revealing a gentleness which made the queen soften. “It’s an honour to meet you, your Majesty.” 

“Likewise,” Elizabeth smiled, with a hint of uncomfortableness as she shook the woman’s dainty hand. 

“If I may, ma’am,” the blonde carefully started with obvious shyness yet determination. “I would like to tell you that I have always admired you so. We are the same age, you see, and I married my husband the same year as your Royal wedding. I was so proud to be his wife.” The woman beamed, and Elizabeth could not help but reciprocate the gesture. 

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, and not sure what to say but wanting to give the kind woman something, she continued. “Congratulations then on your 6th anniversary this year.” 

The woman’s hazel eyes saddened for a moment but then lit up again while she spoke. “Sadly, I lost my husband a year ago. But I am always reminded of him, and all our happy times, whenever I see you, your Majesty, and your husband. Thank you for reminding me of him, and for giving us all such joy.” 

For a quick moment Elizabeth let an insecure and vulnerable look escape her strong façade, and she gave a sad smile. “I am so sorry.” 

“Don’t be, ma’am. We had good years, and we have a little boy who looks just like his father.” There was something angelic over the woman’s face and Elizabeth envied her joy, at the same time as she pitied her painful loss. 

Taking her hand into her gloved one yet again, Elizabeth gave it a light press before letting go and being ushered into the car. As the car drove away, she made one last wave to the people, and watched the blonde woman through the back window. It was rare that she met with strangers like this anymore, she thought and pondered about the small conversation she had just had. 

….

An hour later Elizabeth was all dressed up in a sapphire dress, as she joined a dinner held at the city hall. She tried her best to keep her appearance, as she always must, but felt her thoughts more than once drift back to the woman she had met and the words she had spoken about her husband. Elizabeth felt a sting of guilt for having her husband safe and sound, while this obviously wonderful woman had lost hers. Yet the woman had had such a grateful and positive way of being, while Elizabeth acted cold and dismissive toward her husband. 

She and Philip for sure had had their problems since her entering the throne, but lately it all seemed to have become worse. They barely saw each other, and when they did it was often during formalities or in argument over something. She could not remember the last time they had shared an evening together, or even yet shared bed. It was all so complicated, living a married life in Buckingham palace. 

She made a deep sigh of relief as the dinner finally ended and localised Michael where he stood by the corner of the ballroom. “I want to go home, Michael. Please arrange for me to go home as soon as possible.” Her words came as a bit of a surprise to her, the spontaneity to have made such a drastic decision before she even had come to understand why she felt such an urge to return home at this late hour being somewhat unusual. 

Michael, if feeling the same surprise, hid it well and simply nodded and made his way to make the arrangements while the queen paid the respects and thanked everyone for the warm welcome and the wonderful dinner, ever the daunting queen. 

….

The familiar smell of portraits and perfectly polished carpets filled her nose as she climbed the stairs to her private quarters. She had dismissed her maid, making sure everyone leave her and Philip alone for the night. 

Closing the dark wooden doors behind her, she let out a shaky breath and stepped out of her shoes as to not make any noise to wake Philip who was asleep since a few hours already. The clock on the wall let her know it was a good few hours past midnight. Philip’s door to their adjoining hall was open and she quietly stepped into his bedroom. It was embedded in darkness except from the moon sweeping a dim light through the window curtains. 

Philip was sound asleep she heard, his soft breathing being the only noise filling the room. He had never been a snorer, even after nights out drinking, and she was reminded of how long it had been since she has listened to him sleep. She carefully stepped closer to his bed, cautious not to make the old wooden floor creak. 

It was not like her to give into this urge to see him, lately she did not even know if she had felt this urge. Yet now it was there. Something about the woman losing her husband and speaking of their happy years, reminded her of her own affection to Philip. An affection which was always there, even though she had not let it bother her lately. Now though, it felt as if it consumed her. 

Philip, _her_ Philip, in his navy blue pyjamas never looked more sweet. The way he was so still and quiet reminded her of happier times. Of years lost to duty and sacrifice. 

She felt her throat thicken, swallowed and as not to wake him up she quietly made her way back to her own bedroom. 

Undressing from the dress she had insisted to keep on in order to save time, she got rid of her stockings and undergarments. She lifted the white nightgown over her head and removed the jewellery, wanting to get rid of all the things Elizabeth _the queen_ had to wear. 

She made her way to her dressing table to remove her makeup. While moving her fingers over her face in the well-practiced routine, her eyes are caught on the one jewel that she had kept on, glimmering in the mirror. Her engagement ring. She never takes it off, even after all these years and even after all the fights. It is her most beloved possession. It represents who she was when she was someone to fall in love with, to choose this life with despite all of the sacrifices. She needs to remind herself of that girl, Lilibet, because sometimes she seems so far away these days. 

As she sees a glimpse of that girl in the mirror, hot tears form in her eyes, and she closes them shut while gently tugging at the ring on her finger. A single tear find itself down the alabaster skin of her cheek. The words from before tug at her heart. _“I married my husband the same year as your Royal wedding. I was so proud to be his wife.”_

An urge to go to her husband fill her entire body and she rises, wiping her tear and dabbing at her eyes before abandoning her room to again open the adjoining doors. She pushes her pride aside and open the doors to Philip’s room for the second time that night. 

Greeted by darkness, she must wait for a few moments before her eyes get used to the surroundings and she can see the form of her husband on the bed. She can hear his soft breathing and walks close, stepping out of her slippers and carefully sit on the bed, bringing her legs up under her. Philip does not move so she gently lift her hand to brush against his where is rests on top of the covers. She has always adored his strong body and been a victim under his touch. As her fingers dance over his hand, up over his arm and back again, Philip moves and rolls onto his side, burying his head deeper into the pillow. He looks so innocent when he sleeps, she thinks and tries to remember the last time she studied him like this. She cannot remember. She has missed it. To be near him like this. They seldom sleep in the same bed anymore. Most nights she does not think much about it, but every once in a while, when she goes to bed without him, when he is god knows where out with Mike, a sadness lingers over her. She does miss her husband, and the days where they would share bed every night. 

_“I am always reminded of him, and all our happy times, whenever I see you, your Majesty, and your husband.”_

The thought of losing the man sound asleep beside her, makes her heart ache. Not only the accident which could have been far worse, but the fact that her position as queen has sent Philip away from her to a place where he is happier without her causes the wetness to return to her eyes. Lifting the covers, Elizabeth carefully slips underneath, and curls close to the only person in the world her heart belongs to and has ever belonged to. Her forehead rest against his and she clings her hand to his, bringing it to her lips and pressing a tender kiss against the soft skin. The action causes Philip to stir and as he wakens, he opens his eyes, confused at first. 

“Elizabeth,” he murmurs in question and blinks the sleep from his eyes. Blue eyes meet each other there in the bedroom, for the first time in very long. “Why aren’t you in Nottingham?” 

She swallows and shifts on the bed, her gaze falling on his entangled hand in hers. She watches his fingers intertwine with hers and feel him shift slightly so that his other arm moves around her body, gently pulling her against him so that he lays on his back and she is rolled against him on her side. Feeling her throat thicken again and the hotness burn behind her eyes, Elizabeth cannot make a sound in fear of bursting into tears. “I’m sorry,” she finally mouths in a whisper and release a shaky breath while lifting her gaze to meet his. 

She is met by a rare gentleness in his eyes and she feels more vulnerable than she has felt in a long time. She cannot make herself say the words but hope her eyes can signal her apology. Philip, too, is a proud man and their communication is seldom made with many words. Yet she feels as if she should say something, anything, to make him understand the way she feels. Her lip suddenly quivers, and she curses her inability to control her emotions. “I miss you,” she releases and gives into the sob that bangs at her chest for release. Her vision gets blurry and she finds herself embraced into the warmth and comfort of her Philip, strong arms wrapping around her and soft lips pressing a kiss to her head as she rests her face into the crook of his neck. She is filled with his scent and with every shaky inhale it fills her up with a calmness and comfort she has not given herself permission to need lately. 

“I miss you, too, my Lilibet,” Philip whispers into her hair.


End file.
